


the trickster

by blueprintofyourpast



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Feelings, Grimes Family 2.0 (Walking Dead), Precious Michonne, Pregnancy, Rick Grimes Is A Sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueprintofyourpast/pseuds/blueprintofyourpast
Summary: He’s a man in love and he’s obsessed, hopelessly and irreparably obsessed with this woman who had been washed up on his bleak and lonely shore when this world was about to crush him once and for all. And she used to irritate him at first, she used to goad and fascinate him with her sullen reticence and her genuine antipathy towards him and his people.And now they’re here – because of course he fell for her, because, paradoxically, she fell for him of all people – and there’s a part of him that’s still convinced that he did a number on her, that he tricked her when he returned from a disastrous run and told her to have her mints in his pathetic attempt to show appreciation for all the things she did for him and his kids when she had every reason to turn her back on him....Or: A lovestruck Rick enjoys breakfast with his family. Cue sappy introspection.[RE-UPLOAD]
Relationships: Rick Grimes/Michonne
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	the trickster

She never fails to throw him off course when she’s gliding down the stairs in the morning. With her fingertips grazing the wooden banister and her supple breasts – accentuated by the shimmering silk of her lavender blue robe – bouncing lightly, she makes her way down to him on bare feet. The corners of his mouth start to twitch as soon as she meets his gaze.

“Good morning.”

Her sleepy grin makes him choke on his words, so he tilts his head in lieu of an answer and proceeds to bask in the natural glow of her skin. He’s thwacked with a long-known sense of ignobility that reminds him of a time when he’d look at her and feel like an animal,   
an insect, a selfish creature that preferred to hide in the dark and long for her at a distance that was once painfully palpable and impossible to span.

He swallows a sigh, almost exhausted by her unrelenting beauty, but his eyes continue to shamelessly absorb every detail of her face. Sometimes her braids are pulled back in a ponytail, sometimes they’re tied into a bun – he doesn’t care as long as he can enjoy a clear view of her lovely nape and revel in the knowledge that he kissed her there last night, that he brushed the junction between her neck and shoulder with his lips and muttered endless songs of praise and admiration into the base of her throat as he took her apart, over and over and over again until the two of them collapsed on top of each other and then plunged into a deep, well-deserved slumber.

She comes to a halt on the final step, raising her brows in silent expectation, and he has to touch her. Closing the gap between them, he wraps his arm around her tiny waist and plants his hand against the curve of her spine when she cups his face and bows her head. There’s a faint smack of spearmint sticking to her lips and tongue and he lifts her off the stair in a slow spin while shoals of electric eel start to wreathe and calcitrate in the pit of his stomach.

“Mornin’”, he says, setting her down carefully but nonetheless determined to keep her chained to his body for a little longer, “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah. I didn’t even hear the alarm.”

“That’s good”, he’d allow himself to sport a knowing smirk if he weren’t already entranced by the salving warmth of her tawny brown eyes, “I wanted you to have a lie-in, so I turned it off.”

Her smile, broadened by his nonchalant confession, reveals a trail of crinkles that careen along the bridge of her nose. He doesn’t want to let go of her just yet. He wants to drown with her in this moment. He wants to hold her close until they’re trapped in a thick, amber- coloured sea of resin and copal. He wants to smother her wails of protest with soft kisses and ruthless cajolery.

He’s a man in love and he’s obsessed, hopelessly and irreparably obsessed with this woman who had been washed up on his bleak and lonely shore when this world was about to crush him once and for all. And she used to irritate him at first, she used to goad and fascinate him with her sullen reticence and her genuine antipathy towards him and his people.

And now they’re here – because of course he fell for her, because, paradoxically, she fell for him of all people – and there’s a part of him that’s still convinced that he did a number on her, that he tricked her when he returned from a disastrous run and told her to have her mints in his pathetic attempt to show appreciation for all the things she did for him and his kids when she had every reason to turn her back on him.

“Rick?”

There’s a part of him that likes to come alive at night as soon as she’s nestled in his arms.

There’s a part of him that likes to grab him by the neck and fill his head with caustic congratulations and vicious mockery.

There’s a part of him that likes to whisper Third time’s the charm or Let’s see how long it’s gonna take you to get this one killed.

There’s a part of him that likes to remind him of the blood on his hands.

“Hey”, she rubs at his brow, “What’s wrong?” 

She can never know.

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

She can never know that he doesn’t deserve her.

“Yeah.”

She can never know, so he lends weight to his reply with a nod, a smile, and another kiss. He doesn’t try to cloud her judgement by shoving his tongue down her throat. He isn’t that stupid. He just wants her to be happy. He’s willing to share everything with her – everything but this part of him, everything but his disposition to deflate and self-destruct in the face of true, panacean happiness.

He sucks her bottom lip into his mouth whilst cautiously tapping at the back of her head. Wrapped up in Morse code, his terrible secret lies down on the smooth space right below her occipital bone where a small patch of frizzy, unplaited fluff adorns her neck. It’s alright. She still doesn’t know but he likes to believe that a part of her got the message.

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met”, she chides playfully; finally wriggling out of his embrace, she winks at him and then makes for the kitchen, “You’re lucky that I’m too hungry to suss you out right now, so be prepared to get grilled as soon as breakfast is over.”

Dammit.

How on earth did he think that she wouldn’t be able to see through his bullshit within the split of a second? She knows him. Better than anyone does these days. She knows that he’s a drama queen. She knows that he’s a sucker for misplaced despondency and unabashed self-criticism. She knows that he can be a whiny mess sometimes. And she’s still with him, she’s still warm under his touch, still unburdened, still alive, still in love and so responsive every time he seeks shelter between her legs and comes with his voice cracking and her name ringing throughout the bedroom.

And he shouldn’t underestimate her. He should know that she isn’t just another woman who might die on account of his ineptitude. She’s so much more than that. She’s different. She’s smart and resourceful. She’d rip his balls off if he’d ever do so much as think about tricking her. And she wouldn’t die because of him. She would die for him – just like he would die for her.

Shaking his head, he follows her and watches as she greets Carl and Daryl, who are already engrossed in the task of scarfing down loads of colourful cereal, with high-fives before she dives down to kiss Judith’s temple, prompting the toddler to throw her pudgy arms in the air with a gurgling laugh.

There’s a subtle sway to her hips when she turns around and moves to the cupboard. Standing on her tiptoes, she reaches for the coffee mug she brought from a run a couple of weeks ago. According to her and Carl, the purple cloud that’s printed on the front is a cartoon character called Lumpy Space Princess, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that piece of information but maybe it’ll come in handy one day. 

She isn’t just another woman. She is his woman and it’s okay to be obsessed, it’s okay to miss her when she’s just a few inches away from him. If her mere presence leaves him tongue-tied, if her mere presence turns him into a sentimental wuss, if her mere presence fills him with the kind of love that burns him from within, so be it.

“Dude”, he hears Daryl mutter under his breath.

He blinks, shoots a glare at his brother whilst settling at the dinner table, and feigns ignorance towards Carl’s snickering. They have no idea of what he’s going through.

“Leave him alone”, she says, flopping down beside him and taking a sip from the tea he prepared for her in advance, “He’s a bit mopey today.”

“I’m not.”

His scoff gets stuck in his throat because she pushes a bowl of oatmeal in his direction and then leans against his side. He starts to eat, catches her grin from the corner of his eye, and resigns himself to the simple fact that the frantic flutter in his chest will never go away.

Unbeknownst to Daryl, who feeds Judith a spoonful of his cornflakes, he sneaks his hand under the table. Unbeknownst to Carl, who immediately starts to engage her in a conversation about Glenn’s upcoming birthday party, he splays his fingers over the slight bump of her belly.

“Do you think Enid’s gonna be there?”

“She lives with them, Carl.”

“Right.”

He ends up drifting in and out of their chatter, mainly focused on the possibility of getting kicked at by the bundle of life that’s growing beneath his palm. It’s too soon of course but a part of him – a part of him that doesn’t feel guilty, a part of him that doesn’t indulge in relentless self-loathing, a part that of him that rose from its grave when she told him that she was done taking breaks – can’t wait to get a foretaste of what his life is going to be like in the near future.


End file.
